One of the biggest influences on my decision to farm, and how to do it, came from Joel Salatin's books.

Among his practical tips and words of wisdom came these words:

"Our motto is we respect and honour the pigness of the pig and the chickenness of the chicken. That means not confining them in a house with hundreds of others."

Allowing an animal to express its natural behaviors, such as the scratching and pecking of chickens, or the rooting and tilling of pigs, becomes an essential part of giving that animal the best environment in which to live, and therefore, the best possible life.

On our "little farm," that is exactly what all of our critters get to do.

For many years now we've talked about getting pigs. We enjoyed watching the pigs at our friend's farm and always figured we'd try it ourselves.

One year turned into five, and I finally decided it was time. A few e-mail inquiries later and we were rushing to put together a pig shelter (thank you old pallets!) in our old garden space, which, due to my current schedule of working full-time off of the farm, is lying dormant.

The perfect pig palace!

Now "Roto" and "Tiller" spend their days happily rooting and tilling up the old garden, happy as pigs in, well, mud.

If that isn't the pigness of the pig, I don't know what is.

Cheers -

I never took myself for a "poultry person" until the first time I brought home day old chicks from the local farm supply store. 

I've been raising chicks from one-day-old every spring and summer since, both laying breeds and meat breeds, and even trying my hand at hatching out our own (although as luck would have it, we got 10 out of 11 roosters that year!).

But it was my first bunch of Blue Slate turkeys from Cackle Hatchery that really sent me head-over-heels in love with poultry and especially, with turkeys. 

And what an odd love affair this has been.  

Turkeys have an undeserved negative reputation.  Far from being stupid, (and no, turkeys will absolutely not stand out in the rain and look up and drown, so if you've ever said that, please stop it immediately) I have found them to be the most social, the most curious and the most gregarious of all of the domestic birds on our property. 

Their faces are divine studies in theatrical performances, as their heads and necks turn from a pale pink to vivid tones of blues and reds whenever they are near an object of attention - either the hens, or more often, us. 

The names of the parts of their heads are also delightful - from the snood hanging over their beak, which stretches and elongates when they strut, to the caruncles on their head and necks, which also engorge and turn brilliant red during a strut. 

{And yes, for turkeys, snood length does matter, with longer snoods winning the hearts of hens and usually determining the dominance level of the tom.} 

An adult turkey has 5,000-6,000 feathers, from the long proud tail feathers to the tiniest of tiny feathers on the tops of their heads, which appear like an angelic halo (look closely at several pics on this page to see this).  These beautiful feathers are not just for looks, either, as a turkey can fly up to 40 mph and in the wild, naturally roosts in trees. 

Their big brown (or blue) eyes are keenly sharp, as any hunter with a goal to bag one can attest to, their field of vision encompassing 270° and even seeing in color.  

But it's not the many fine attributes that I fell in love with, although they make it all the more justifiable. 

It's the essence of the turkey personality, the "turkeyness of the turkey," so to speak. 

It's the way the babies are so calm when you put your hand into the brooder, coming up in serious earnestness to investigate your fingers, and their escalating peep, PeeP, PEEP! when excited. 

It's the hens that will curl up in my lap for a snooze, or fly up and roost on my head, or sneak up behind me to steal the gloves out of my pocket, darting away in an exuberant game of "keep-away."

Mostly, turkeys are just darn good company. 

And that, my friend, is good enough reason for me to fall in love. 

Cheers - 

It's molting time again, that time of year when the daylight is shortest and chickens tend to molt their feathers and regrow them, sometimes in funny ways.

Our little Ameraucana rooster, Allspice, has molted his tail, which makes his already diminutive stature even more so.

Here he was before:

But that doesn't deter his gargantuan spirit.

Despite Pullet Surprise being over twice his size, Allspice still rules the roost around here.

Tail or no tail.

And that's no "tall tale."

Cheers -

There are two sets of constant companions on our farm. One is the cats, especially Karma, who seems to feel it her duty to oversee every detail of our tasks.

The other is our small flock of Sweetgrass turkeys, who strut about each one trying to outdo the other and impress us with their talents. 

Today we had the pleasure of both as we advanced our "replace-the-turkey-townhouse-floor" project. 

A few weekends ago we removed the rotted out floor. Last weekend a layer of rocks and dirt were hauled in, and today hardware cloth was put down. Next weekend, with any luck, new boards will top the wire. 

The jakes like to chase Karma whenever they can, but since she is close to fearless, she stays within close range despite the likelihood of a chasing. They don't seem bent on real damage, and with a couple of bounds they give up the chase. In turn she chases the Sweetgrass hens whenever she can. 

Mojo tempered his fear of the turkeys by overseeing from within the trailer, safely outside of the turkeys' vision. 

Cheers -

Having lived on this little farm for 3 full growing seasons already, we are becoming more and more in sync with the tasks of the season.

In March, we tap maple trees, at least the very few we happen to have here.

This year that was a grand total of two.

Why even bother tapping two trees, you ask?

Because even with only two trees we manage to get many gallons of sap, which yields 6-7 pints of the most delicious syrup you're ever tasted, especially so because you foraged it from your own land, and because it's in limited supply so you really enjoy it.

And so the ritual begins with the gathering of supplies - (free) plastic buckets, plastic taps, plastic tubing, a 5/16" drill bit and a drill.  Oh, and my favorite farm tool, a black plastic ice fishing sled.

I use sleds year-round, over grass, snow and ice, and they are fabulous for hauling buckets or weeds or hay bales or manure.

If it were up to me we'd use old metal spiles and metal sap buckets, but we already had plastic buckets, and they do hold more sap and keep the sap cleaner.

{if any of you have a few of the old supplies you want to get rid of, please contact us}

The hardest part of the process is pushing the spile into the plastic tubing. Luckily I had Papa handy to do this task so I could just stand around snapping pics.

After drilling a 5/16" hole about 2" deep at a slight upward angle, you insert the spile (with tubing attached), tapping it gently into the tree.

Insert the other end into the bucket. Seal the bucket with the lid to keep out spiders and dirt. If the sap is running, you will see sap flow into the bucket almost right away, although at a fairly slow pace.

Why does our maple tree have red flagging tape around it, you may be asking?

Well that's because our property is full of oaks and very few maples, so we walk around in the fall looking for maples when the leaves are on, and mark the trees with red flagging so we can find them in March when they are bare and all look the same.

Yup, we're brilliant that way.

Depending on the size of the tree, you may be able to place more than one spile. You can find some guidelines, and more specific tapping instructions, here.

One your taps are set, don't forget to come back often and check the buckets.  You may have many days in a row where you get nothing, then suddenly you can have an overflowing bucket in one day.

It all depends on the temperatures, ideally freezing at night and warm during the day.

The trek out there makes for some nice "sweetie" time anyway, so I always look forward to it.

Cheers -

The peeps are about 5 days old now, and as always I am enjoying them immensely.

Despite their diminutive size, they are full of personality and curiosity. 

They bring the spirit of new life, and hope, to a part of winter that I often struggle with, the part that seems to drag on forever, spring a distant memory. 

My daily dose of cheer, these babies. 

In case you're curious about what breeds we got this time, in Papa's hands are a Wellsummer (brown), a Black Sex Link, and an Ameraucana.

Wellsummers are a breed from Welsum, Holland, best known as the rooster on the Kellog's box. She will lay dark brown eggs.

Black Sex Links are a cross between a Rhode Island Red rooster and a Barred Rock hen. Differences in color of the newly hatched chicks are gender related, allowing for easy sorting of pullets and cockerels. She will lay light brown eggs.

Ameraucanas come in many colors, from light to dark. They lay light blue or green eggs. 

In the top photo on the page, two Buff Orpingtons exchange peep news. One of our all-time favorites, buffs are sweet tempered and curious. They also lay light brown eggs.

This is the earliest we've ever started pullets (young female chickens). It is our hope that they will be laying well before our older girls molt in the fall, a natural process that takes so much energy from the hen that she stops laying eggs for up to 3 months.

These little sweeties are our guarantee for non-stop eggs throughout that period. 

And non-stop entertainment for the next 9 months as they grow in feathers, size and individual personalities.

Cheers- 

I've become a bit of an expert on the "birds and the bees" in the barnyard.

{B&B. &B}


Tom turkeys work pretty hard to win the favor of the hens, not only through strutting and a "spit and drum" vocalization, but they also are gentlemen who wait to be invited for more advanced maneuvers (unlike chicken roosters who just "grab and go" with any hen, any time they can catch one).

In addition, once a hen accepts tom's favor, there is an elaborate dance on her back, the tom using his claws up and down the sides of her back to trigger her pleasure receptors.

Alpaca males "orgle" while mating, their vocalizations a key part of the process for female receptivity.

But nothing is as  funny as rabbits coupling.

If the doe is receptive, the male will not waste any time getting things done, grabbing the hair on the back of her neck in his mouth to hold on has he vibrates like a jackhammer then siezes up as if having a heart attack, then falling over on his side.

If you blink, you'll likely miss it.

So don't blink.

And have a Happy Valentine's Day!!